One Shot to Kill Them All
by zephyrXmeridian
Summary: A small collection of mildly humorous World of Warcraft oneshots featuring the characters of myself and my friends. Behold the ensuing chaos when a Blood Elf paladin, a Tauren druid, a Forsaken rogue, and a Darkspear Troll mage decide to work together. D
1. Kitiria Hates the Undead

**Kitiria Hates the Undead**

_In which our stalwart, fey-like champion of all that is good celebrates yet another birthday with some very unlikely friends._

~Silvorfithrade~

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Kitiria scowled as she glanced at the crumbling ruins around her. Disgusting, she thought with a shudder as she watched countless undead milling about in the courtyard about twenty feet under the balcony that currently served as her rather rickety seat. "I don't care how many languages they can speak or how much magic they can use," she grumbled to herself. "They are NOT people. Terrible ... rotting ... foul ... despicable ..."

She slipped off of the railing as she felt the stone crumble beneath her armored fingers. "What an awful place ..."

"I'm glad you're enjoying yourself."

"Shut up, Gatsuga." Kitiria hurled a jagged rock at her Tauren companion, who raised his eyebrows as it bounced harmlessly off of one horn and skittered away on the dusty floor.

"No need for violence, Kit," the druid said with a snicker as he plopped down on the disintegrating floor. Two seconds later, a small tree stood rooted in his place, swaying in a strange sort of dance.

"Stupid tree huggers."

"That's not nice either."

"I hate this place."

"I'm sure Drak would appreciate you calling her entire race foul and despicable."

"Sure, she'd take it as a compliment. Especially the 'rotting' bit." Kit brushed a pale hand against the wall. "Where is she, anyway?"

Gatsuga managed a rather tree-like shrug that rattled the few leaves he had left on his branches. "I'm not sure. She said she had to go restock on poison and pick up something from a friend of hers. She probably got distracted by a multicolored cockroach or something."

"Speaking of getting distracted ..."

A winking undead girl materialized in front of Kitiria with a maniacal grin. "Happy birthday, Kit. Did you think I'd forget?"

Kitiria suppressed a groan as she accepted a mottled grey box from her unlikely friend. "I wish you'd stop doing that. Why can't you just walk up and say hi like normal people?"

"Cause then I'd never get to see you squeak and jump like that." Drak's yellow eyes glinted mischievously. She was strangely playful for someone who was already dead, Kitira thought dryly. Sure enough, Drak pawed at her shoulder with bony hands in excitement. "Oh come on, open it!"

"Yeah, Kit! Open it!" Gatsuga mimicked, pawing wildly at the air, first with branches, then with actual paws.

"Why do I travel with you two?" Kitiria lamented as she felt gingerly around the ominous little box for a latch. Her fingers slipped across a tiny indention and suddenly stuck fast to her gift. "Drak? Drak, what's going on? Drak! This isn't funny! Make it let go!"

As if on cue, the box exploded and a flood of bats shot out, temporarily surrounding the hapless elf with a living cloud of wings and fur. Kitiria screeched shrilly, and several undead passersby paused to watch in amusement as the elf thrashed frantically. "GET THESE LITTLE RATS OUT OF MY HAIR!"

Then, the bats flew away, and a bottle with a tankard tied to it dropped harmlessly into her lap. Drak shrugged. "I figured you'd want booze after the show. Was I right?"

Gatsuga howled with laughter as Kitiria drew her sword and chased Drakonsabre around the mouldering courtyard. "I'M GOING TO KILL YOU, ZOMBIE! I HATE BATS! I HATE THEM! I'M GOING TO SLICE YOUR HALFWAY DETACHED HEAD OFF AND BURN IT IN THE BELLOWS! I DON'T CARE HOW DEAD YOU ARE, I'M GOING TO FINISH THE JOB, YOU SICK, DERANGED CREATURE! I'M GOING TO HUNT YOU DOWN, YOU AND YOUR FUTURE HALF-DEAD TROLL BABIES, AND I'LL MASSACRE YOU ALL! I HATE BATS!!!!!!"

Shrugging absently, the bewildered shoppers of Undercity turned away and went about their business.


	2. Some People Do Require Food

**Some People Do Require Food**

_In which our resident undead woman procures the daily vittles for her companions still breathing._

~Silvorfithrade~

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The farmer never knew exactly what hit him that fateful day he decided to pick an extra sack of apples for his mother-in-law; he just knew he would never approach that particular tree ever again.

He paused at the tree for a few moments, contemplating whether it would be safe to stay and harvest his bounty as the sun crept below the skyline. Finally, he made his choice and shook open his last bushel sack. His hand had barely brushed the fruit when something quite un-apple-like fell out of the tree and onto his wagon. His horse let out a frightened whinny and thrashed its head.

"Give ussssss the bounty!" it hissed, yellow eyes glinting with the last glow of the daylight.

The farmer stumbled back, face contorted in fear. "Stay away demon!"

The creature dropped from the wagon to the ground with a muted thud. With a panicked squeal, the horse bolted, taking wagon and apples with it in a large, clattering bundle.

"Stay away! Away!" The farmer scrambled back on the ground in a sad attempt to clamber to his feet as his "assailant" advanced.

"Give it to usssssssssssssssss!" It gestured wildly at the one bag of apples still left on the ground and grinned, baring a mouth full of gaps and rotting or broken teeth.

"Take it! Please, just leave me alone!" The farmer was hyperventilating now, and sweat trickled down his face in huge streams.

The stranger crouched next to the quivering human and caressed his terrified face with skeletal fingers. "Would youuuuuu like to ssssssshhhhaaareeee?"

The farmer squeaked, scrambled to his feet, turned his back to the mysterious "thing" and ran for his life.

Drakonsabre chuckled as she hefted the bag of apples and made her way back to the clearing where her party had made camp. "I almost feel bad this time. I think he pissed his pants."

Kitiria made a face as she poked the fire with a stick. "We couldn't have just picked the apples from the tree after he was gone?"

"Heh, you know you were laughing too, Kit, don't lie." Deorat made a sad attempt at spinning an apple on a long, blue finger, and upon failing, tossed it at the paladin. "Next time, it's my turn though. Drak always get all the fun."

"Besides, Kit," Gatsuga chimed in between bites, "picking all of these ourselves would have been way too much work. There must be at least fifty apples in this bag, and they're all ours for the taking."

"You're WELCOME," Drakonsabre muttered as she curled up next to Deorat and lay down. She winked. "You guys owe me big time."

"Oh, aren't you special," Gatsuga shot back with a grin. "Just because you don't have to eat -"

Drak's dagger missed his nose by two inches as it embedded in the tree trunk behind him with a thunk. "I'll remember that," she responded with a rather maniacal laugh.

Kitiria shook her head and glanced sideways at Deorat with a pained expression. "Do something with her, mage. She's going to kill all of us."


	3. Purity, Chastity, and Chains

**Purity, Chastity, and Chains**

_In which Kitiria's latest mission causes an embarrassing misunderstanding._

~Silvorfithrade~

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_Disclaimer: I do not actually condone using copious amounts of alcohol and women. Or men, for that matter._

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"Kit, what is that?"

Deorat glanced up as he meticulously polished his staff, his mouth slightly ajar in bewilderment.

"What? Oh. This?" The paladin flipped her red hair out of her face and tugged lightly at the chain on her belt - a chain connected to a heavily shackled, hardly recognizable man who was half-walking and half-being-dragged behind her through the snow. "This, my friend, is part of my latest quest! The magic provided gives me quite the stamina boost. What do you think?"

The mage gaped, his tusks slightly askewed by his expression. "I'm not ... really sure how to respond ..."

He was saved from further speech. "Kit! Holy Mother Azeroth!" Gatsuga, who had wandered by with a steaming mug of heavily spiked eggnog, cocked his head sideways in complete surprise. "I know we were talking about throwing a crazy Winter's Veil party with copious amounts of alcohol and women - sorry, Drak - but ... doesn't this sort of violate some sort of code you're under? And aren't you forgetting the leather?"

Drakonsabre, who had been in the middle of building an elaborate snow fortress, was torn between cackling uproariously and punching Gatsuga in the nose. (For those of you that care, she chose option C, which was to do both at the same time.)

A veil of confusion shrouded Kitiria's face, confusion that was quickly followed by her familiar righteous indignation. "Are you implying that I would even DEIGN to partake in these activities of yours? You ... you bovine oaf! You know full well I would not DREAM of becoming intoxicated, and that I only touch my wines for RELIGIOUS PURPOSES ONLY. The fact that you people continuously try to tempt me with distilled spirits is outrageous! I cannot believe this disgrace! I --"

Drakonsabre cut her off with a bemused snicker. "Notice she says nothing about her masochistic friend back there. I see you're lacking in the whip department, though."

The elf's face cycled through various shades of pink until finally it matched the fiery shade of her hair. "I ... I ... how could you say such a ... I ... I would never ... such actions would trample upon my vows of chastity! I would NEVER allow men to violate my purity in such a vile, disgusting manner! Forsaken beast, I'll have you know, I am a VIRGIN and I will be PROUD to die as one!"

Drakonsabre raised an eyebrow as she, Gatsuga, and Deorat glanced at each other, practically exploding with stifled laughter.

"So that's her problem," Gatsuga finally managed to mutter under his breath.

Their cackles and giggles could be heard from Northrend to Booty Bay as Kitiria futilely shrieked in outrage.

"YOU PERVERTS! I'LL BEHEAD YOU ALL!"


End file.
